


Yield

by haledamage



Series: Stay [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Belligerent Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 10:19:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19207372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haledamage/pseuds/haledamage
Summary: Denerim's politics make Cait Cousland frustrated and restless. Loghain offers to help her work through it. It doesn't go how either of them expect.





	Yield

**Author's Note:**

> not part of or compliant with "Something Might Be Found" for obvious reasons. this started as a study, I wanted to practice writing sex because I haven't done it much, but then I got _invested_ and then feelings got involved and it became something much more than I expected
> 
> fun fact: Cait Cousland was my first Warden, and long before Awakening came out and I fell in love with Nathaniel Howe, Cait/Loghain was my otp. I love Nate a lot, and I love Cait with him, but I love her with Loghain too and once I really started writing, there was no one else this could be about. I hope you enjoy it too :)

Denerim politics were rather boring without a Blight or civil war happening. There was no shortage of them, certainly, but after a year spent on the road in a constant life or death struggle, tariffs and trade disagreements weren’t as mentally stimulating as Cait Cousland would have preferred. She tried her best, determined to be the best Chancellor for Anora that she could be, but days in meetings just left her twitchy and restless once the sun went down.

At first, she’d go out at night and start bar fights. There was always someone who’d had a few too many and was willing to scrap with the Hero of Ferelden. But after the second time she came to a morning meeting with a black eye and split lip, Anora demanded she find a better way to keep busy.

Loghain had volunteered to keep her busy.

They hadn’t seen as much of each other as she would have liked since they ended the Blight. Cait was up to her neck in politics on a good day and Anora had made it clear that Loghain was no longer to be involved in any of that, for his own sake if nothing else. Even with both of them staying in the palace they didn’t have much opportunity to seek each other out.

They’d only traveled together a few short months before the death of the archdemon, but had become unexpectedly fast friends. She missed having him around now. Missed his dry humor and his deep, grumbling voice and the way he smiled with his eyes but so rarely let it show on his face. Missed the warmth that pooled in her belly on the rare occasion that he smiled for real. Something about him was familiar, helped settle the wildness in her soul; maybe it was simply a matter of like recognizing like.

Needless to say, she jumped at the chance.

They laid claim to one of the many, many empty and purposeless rooms in the royal palace and would meet there as often as they could. Mostly to spar, to work off excess energy with an assortment of weapons and fists, but sometimes they just wanted to talk to someone that they could trust.

Loghain was a handsome man. Cait had thought so even when they first met at Ostagar before the world flipped on its head and they ended up on opposite sides of a war for a while. He was also intense, imposing, and intimidating, but she didn’t find those to be a bad thing in the least. Most importantly, he treated her neither like a delicate flower or some grand hero but like an equal.

She was self-aware enough to recognize her crush on him, to know her acute awareness of him whenever they were together was due less to the shared curse in their blood and more to the easy strength he carried himself with and the warm regard in his eyes when they were alone. Cait was also self-aware enough not to act on it. She was only five years older than his daughter. He had been at her parents’ wedding, had in fact been responsible for them meeting in the first place. He had also been her enemy barely six months ago; the fact that they were friends at all was a blighted miracle. It would be selfish and presumptuous to expect anything more.

But still, she thought about it sometimes. More and more as the weeks went by, as they spent early mornings or late nights or breaks in between meetings together, working off one kind of tension but building another. Cait was much less likely to start arguments with visiting lords or get in fist fights with strangers, but also needed many more cold baths than would normally be necessary.

One day, sitting in the bath and admiring the bruises Loghain had left on her, she slipped a hand between her legs and crossed the line from innocent crush to dark secret. She could barely meet his eye the next day, guilty and worried he’d be able to read it on her face. The guilt faded over time, but the desire did not; before long, it became part of the routine.

It was a late morning in mid Wintermarch when Cait stormed into the room in a fury, slamming the door and pacing the space like a caged tiger. Loghain was already there, leaned against the wall.

He raised an eyebrow at her, unimpressed by her rage. Amusement danced in his eyes but never showed on his face. "I heard you almost attacked the bann of Portsmouth. I thought you might need me."

He thought right, but she didn't say it. "Blighted bastard had the gall to look at me and Anora and tell us 'not now, child, the men are talking'. In a meeting being run by her and me. He's blighted lucky Anora doesn't let me carry weapons to those meetings anymore."

Loghain chuckled humorlessly. "Seems to me a sword in your hand would solve a lot of problems with the bannorn." He dropped a firm hand on her shoulder as she paced past him. "Relax, Warden. Like this, you're liable to injure yourself before you have the chance to lose to me."

Cait snarled and pushed his hand away. "That isn't my name." Six months they'd been working together and he still refused to call her by her name. She spun around to point her ire in his direction. "I've been condescended to by enough men today, thank you."

He stood up from the wall, not much taller than her but still somehow looming. "Is that what you think I'm doing."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, breathing in the scent of him to steady her nerves. "No. I'm sorry, Loghain. I run off at the mouth when I'm pissed off. No reason to take it out on you."

She opened her eyes to find him watching her with an unreadable expression. "That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble some day."

She bit back a lot of ways she could answer that and instead replied "It's pretty good at getting me out of trouble, too."

"I don't doubt it." One corner of his lips lifted in a hint of a smile. "Got a preference today, Warden?"

Cait shook her head. "No. I just need to hit something."

"Lucky me," he said dryly.

That finally drew a smile from her. "Oh, Loghain, you know you're my favorite punching bag."

"What a peculiar way to look at it, considering I win more often than not." He leaned against the wall again, waiting for her to get ready.

"I won when it counted." There was no furniture in the room, so Cait went to a far corner and started to remove the layers of finery that the court required of her.

"Yes. Pity you haven't since." Loghain watched her, sharp gaze following her hands along endless buttons. She tried not to acknowledge it. Softer, he added, “Still, I suppose I should be flattered. There are worse fates that could befall a man like me than trading blows with a woman like you.”

She studied his face, trying to figure out what he meant by that, but he betrayed nothing. She'd have an easier time getting answers from the wall behind him if he wanted to be cryptic. "Careful. That sounded dangerously close to a compliment. Wouldn't want to give a girl the wrong idea." Divested of her jacket, tunic, shirt, and boots, she walked back to him in only her undershirt and breeches. 

He stared at her, intense and inscrutable as always. “We wouldn't, would we. On your guard, Warden.”

That was the only warning he gave, rushing forward faster than she expected. She stumbled backwards a few steps before she could collect herself enough to fight back. They fell into a familiar rhythm, no weapons today except their own bodies. It only took a few traded blows before the last of her anger melted away and she stopped caring about the world outside their stolen bit of solitude.

Loghain was a better fighter than she was, and Cait had no problem admitting it. Better trained, more experienced, more focused, as well as being stronger and larger than her. The fact that she beat him as often as she did, that she had won the Landsmeet duel at all, was nothing short of spectacular to her.

He was also very good at keeping her focused. Her mind tended to wander when left to its own devices, as discontented with staying still as the rest of her, but even outside this room, Loghain was able to keep her firmly in the present with barely a word. Maybe he simply took advantage of her hyperawareness of him, though he never acknowledged it if that was the case.

And he let her ramble, much like she was doing right now. The Mac Tirs had that in common. They both were rather taciturn people, but Cait had the gift of gab; she could have a conversation with a brick wall, her brother would say. If either Loghain or Anora had ever had a problem with it, they hadn’t told her such.

“Anora was remarkably patient,” Cait was saying as she dodged a series of quick jabs. “Both with me and with Bann Trevisan. She must get that from her mother.” She threw a punch of her own, but he stepped out of reach at the last moment and she hit nothing but air. She followed the momentum, but it left her open.

As soon as her back was to him, Loghain grabbed her, pinning her arms to her sides in a crushing grip that made her ribs creak. “I can be patient on occasion,” he said quietly in her ear. “When it’s necessary. Yield, Warden.”

“Maybe you can.” She relaxed and let gravity carry her to the floor and out of his arms. She’d barely climbed back to her feet before he was on her again, but she stayed out of his reach as best she could. “That’s not me. I’d have been a terrible queen. Eamon wanted me to be, you know. Needed me to consolidate Alistair’s claim to the throne.”

“Did he.” A shadow passed over his face and she regretted mentioning Eamon. She greatly disliked the man, but it was much, _much_ more than that for Loghain.

Cait kept talking like she hadn’t just dragged some of his worst memories out of whatever corner of his mind he buried them in. She tried to pretend she didn’t notice how much faster and more purposefully Loghain pursued her now, and just tried her best to stay a step ahead. “He was barking up the wrong tree. I’ve got no interest in being royalty, or in Alistair, or in an arranged marriage. And especially not in anything Eamon’s got to say. I’m content to be Anora’s enforcer. It’s what I’m good at.”

Loghain caught her arm next time she attempted to attack, and with a series of steps she couldn’t quite follow twisted it behind her back. It rendered her functionally immobile; she couldn’t move to free herself without risking breaking her arm. His voice was at her ear again, low and dangerous, and she was lucky at least that being unable to move also stifled the shiver that ran down her spine. “Is that why you think she keeps you around? To intimidate power-hungry lords?”

“No, but it’s what _they_ think. She keeps me around because I’m smart, and I’m honest, and she knows she can trust me.” He twisted her wrist just the tiniest bit and pain shot through her elbow. She gasped harshly, “I yield.”

He released her immediately and she stumbled out of his reach, catching herself with a hand on the wall. Cait turned to lean against the wall, watching him as he stood exactly where he’d been before, unmoving. She rubbed her wrist, though it had already stopped hurting, and kept talking like she hadn’t been interrupted, “And because as long as I’m here, so are you.”

He watched her too, wary and ready for when she moved again. “You think very highly of yourself.”

She shrugged one shoulder. “I know my worth. To you and to her. The rest of them don’t matter.”

Loghain smiled at her clumsy confession, the first real smile she’d seen today. It warmed her down to her bones. “Somehow, I don’t think you do.”

Cait didn’t know how to respond to that, so she responded with violence. She rushed across the space toward him, but he was expecting it and side-stepped. She kicked backwards as she went past, catching him in the back of the knee. It gave out and he collapsed to kneel on the floor. 

She moved behind him and locked her arm around his throat. She didn’t want to cut off his air supply, but a little lightheadedness wouldn’t hurt him. Her lips brushed the shell of his ear as she whispered, “Yield, Loghain.”

The world flipped on its head and next thing Cait knew she was on her back, with all the air forced from her lungs and no idea how she’d ended up there. Loghain appeared over her, using his weight to pin her thighs, heavy hands on her shoulders to press her into the floor. “I win,” he growled, eyes dark and triumphant when she made no immediate move to unseat him.

She brought her hands down hard on the inside of his elbows. At the same time, she slid her knee up into his inner thigh and pushed, knocking him off balance. She carried their momentum forward and he landed on his back with a grunt. She settled over his thighs in a mirror of the position he'd just been in. She didn't weigh enough to keep him there, but she exalted in her victory while she could. “ _I_ win.”

He flipped them back over with barely any effort. This time, he pressed her legs apart so she couldn't get any leverage. One of his large hands held both her wrists over her head in an iron grip, the other wrapped around her throat, not pressing down but just there as a warning. “Yield.”

Cait had a flash of panic as she became aware of the position they were in. She was not a good enough actor to hide her reaction to his proximity, especially not from a man as keen-eyed as Loghain. If he hadn’t already been aware of her infatuation, he would be now. In the space her panic left behind, her reckless tongue started wagging without her consent. “You know, I think I had a dream like this once. Might’ve involved a bit less clothing, but the rest of it’s familiar.”

She squirmed against his grip, testing the strength of it, but it had no give. She then tried to move her hips and throw him off of her like she’d done before. She froze when, instead of getting leverage to fight back, she pressed herself up against his very obvious erection.

Cait stared up at him, shock rendering her momentarily speechless. Was it because of her or simply the position they found themselves in? She couldn’t read the look on his face, but that just meant he didn’t want her to know what he was thinking.

Loghain’s only reaction was a tightening of his hands, both the one at her wrists and the one on her throat. “ _Yield_ , Warden,” he said again, as if nothing had changed.

She heard what he wasn’t saying. If she yielded, he’d let her go and they’d pretend this never happened. It would be awkward for a while, but they could go back to being friends and ignore how clearly they wanted each other.

That wasn’t who Cait was. She’d never met an obstacle she couldn’t impetuously throw herself at.

She leaned up, fast as a striking snake, over the scant inches between them and pressed her lips to his. He growled, less a sound and more just a rumbling against her chest. His tongue pressed against the seam of her lips to coax them apart and deepen the kiss, more gentle than she expected but every bit as relentless in this as he was in battle. The hand at her throat slid up into her hair and without the pressure there she had enough freedom to kiss him properly, to give as good as she was getting.

His fingers clenched in her hair, just shy of being painful, and pried her lips from his, head tilted back and held firmly in place by his warm, calloused grip. “Yield,” Loghain said once more, voice rough and deep. It was the only sign he was affected at all, besides the conspicuous one still pressed between her legs.

Cait, on the other hand, was panting and straining against his implacable hold, not quite desperate but getting there. She was always wound up after one of their meetings, but with him over her like this now it felt like every fight they’d ever had had just been foreplay.

She knew she was beat. There was no escaping the hold he had on her until he chose to let her go. Part of her wanted to give in, to yield and let him do what he wanted with her, but a larger part wanted to keep pushing, to egg him on until he broke and see what happened.

That part won, so she did what she did best. She ran her mouth. “Is all of that for me? Or is it just swords in general that do it for you?” she asked, voice husky and dark as smoke. She moved what small amount she could, rocking against him deliberately. She couldn't stop from hissing as his cock rubbed against her, as large and imposing as the rest of him.

“You are not the first woman to ever wield a sword, Warden,” he snarled.

“Maybe. But I’m the only one in this room.” A cocky smile spread across her face and he watched it with a gravitas that made her feel powerful even as confined as she was. “Do you always get this turned on when we fight? Do you go back to your room after we spar and take yourself in hand? I do." She waited and watched the subtle changes in his face as that sunk in, his eyes darkening and jaw clenching as he imagined her, still bruised and sweaty from a fight with her hand between her legs and his name on her lips. "Were you hiding this under your armor during the Landsmeet?”

He pressed his hips forward, his erection grinding against the bundle of nerves at her apex. She bit her lip to stifle a moan. “Would it have made a difference if I was?” His voice was so low she could barely hear it.

“No. You’d have still ended the night on your knees.”

He chuckled and the sound sent a shiver down her spine. It was his turn to look smug. It was a dangerously attractive look for him. "Is that so. You have a very high opinion of your skill, Warden, considering your current predicament."

“Loghain,” she said. His hand on her wrists tensed when she said his name. “Considering the position we’re in right now, I think you can call me by name.”

“Cait,” he growled. She couldn’t recall ever having such a visceral reaction to her own name, the single syllable stoking the heat building inside her just as strongly as if he’d touched her. Triumph flashed in his eyes and he said it again. “Cait. We both know what you want. All you have to do is yield and I’ll give it to you.”

“And deprive you of the pleasure of trying to conquer me? Never.” She tested his hold again, and she’d successfully distracted him enough to pry one hand free. She wound it into his hair and pulled him down for a fierce, needy kiss. 

He gave into it for a moment and she grinned victoriously against his lips. They were as well matched in this as they were in a fight, as if they’d known each other for years. They didn’t battle for dominance so much as take turns leading. It was a dance they’d never done before, but they both knew the steps.

Cait trailed her hand out of his hair and down his neck to slip under his collar to the bare skin of his back. His hand slid out of her hair and ghosted down her side to her hip and then back up to her ribs, rucking her shirt up as he did. It continued up to her shoulder, then down her arm until his hand settled over hers.

She knew what he intended to do. She didn’t stop him. Instead, she nipped at his bottom lip, not hard enough to bleed but definitely enough to bruise.

Loghain moved too fast for her to react even if she had planned to fight him. He pulled her hand away and pinned it to the floor again. He had to shift his position in order to put both hands over her head. They both moaned at the friction it caused. “Yield.”

“You first.” He was still close enough that she could kiss him, but he saw her looking and turned his head to move his lips out of her reach. Cait kissed his jaw instead; he exhaled sharply as soon as her mouth touched his skin. “I’ve never let a man be on top before. Do you want to be the first?”

He didn’t say anything, but he tilted his head the tiniest bit to give her better access. She trailed open-mouthed kisses slowly down his throat as she kept speaking. “I don’t like to give up control, but I’d make an exception for you, Loghain. All you have to do is yield and you can have me any way you want.”

He laughed again, wicked and more than a little arrogant. “With the way I have you here right now, do you really think you could stop me if I decided to take you like this?” His words should have been a threat, but his tone was only warm and amused.

“Do you really think I’d still be here under you if I didn’t want to be?” Cait sucked a bruise into his skin, just under his jaw. It was way too high up to hide it; all of Denerim would know what they’d been up to. He went completely still as she did it, composure breaking in a long, gratifying groan. He was as eager to be claimed as she was to claim him. It was probably dangerous for her to be given that kind of power. “I am _exactly_ where I want to be. Yield and you can be too.”

Loghain growled harshly and pulled out of her reach. He shifted her arms so he could hold both wrists in one hand again; she tried to fight, but it didn’t do any good. With one hand now free, he trailed it down her arm to her neck. He tilted her head back with his thumb and forefinger, baring her throat to him. “Yield, Cait.”

His grip was like iron and didn’t even have enough give to open her mouth and speak. Through clenched teeth, she said, “No.”

He bit and sucked at the column of her throat, leaving a bruise of his own and claiming her like she had claimed him. She let out a broken whimper, wanting to both lean into and pull away from his onslaught and unable to do either. 

He released his grip on her jaw suddenly, hand sliding down the front of her body. She caught his lips as he started to lean away and he let her, kissing her slow and almost tender after the rough possessiveness he’d shown just moments before. His touch continued down her body until he found where her shirt had ridden up and his clever fingers pressed underneath it and against her skin. She arched into him, pressing flush against the hard wall of his chest as he traveled so, so lightly upwards until his fingers brushed the bottom of her breastband. 

Cait whispered his name, unable to stop it from escaping, and he pulled away enough to meet her gaze. Behind the lust and the hard, stubborn control, she could see a frightening affection in his eyes. A part of her wanted to chase it and see where it led.

He didn’t give her the opportunity. “Yield,” he snarled against her lips.

“No,” she forced out.

Loghain pushed her breastband up and out of the way. His hands were large enough to easily fit over her breast, kneading it in his palm, testing the size and weight of it. They were rough from a lifetime wielding a sword and a youth working on a farm and felt delicious on her sensitive flesh.

He lingered there a long time, pinching and rolling her nipples in his fingers, caressing the underside, sucking at them through the too-thick fabric of her shirt, wringing every gasp and cry out of her that he could. She was trembling by the time he was done, her desire a living thing in her blood, calling to him.

“I should have known you were a tits man,” Cait said breathily, voice shaking as much as the rest of her. “It must drive you crazy that the armor I wear keeps them so well hidden. If you yield and let me up, I can show them to you.”

He smiled down at her, amused. “I’ll see them next time,” he promised.

“Next time?” She hadn’t realized it, but she had already been considering ‘next time,’ too. They were too well-matched in this ( _in everything_ , a small voice in the back of her head added) for it to only be a one time thing. She hoped he couldn’t read her thoughts on her face, but she wasn’t optimistic. “Already planning a rematch, are you? Do you expect to lose?”

“I don’t think there will be a loser here either way.” Loghain circled his thumb over her nipple as if to punctuate his statement. “Yield and I’ll prove it to you.”

“No.” She whined at the sudden loss of his touch, and bit her lip to stop from giving in just to bring it back. She tasted blood in her mouth.

He had shifted his weight to one side, still pinning her to the floor but no longer pressed against her, instead baring her to his intense scrutiny. He lazily unlaced her breeches with his one free hand, watching smugly as she tried to move her hips to get any kind of friction at all. “Yield,” he demanded, barely louder than a whisper.

Cait wished she knew what answer would get him to touch her like she wanted. She worried if she relented, he’d stop, so she stuck stubbornly to the same one she’d been giving. “No.”

Loghain slid his hand into her breeches, lightly caressing her through her smallclothes. They were soaked from her desire. He pressed a finger over her clit, just enough to send sparks racing through her before moving away again. His voice was almost gentle, rasping against her throat. “You’re ready for me. Just yield and you can have me.” She started to say no again, but he pressed the heel of his palm firmly against her and it melted away in a desperate keening sound. “You don’t have to torture yourself like this. All you have to do is yield, Cait. I’ll make it the sweetest surrender you’ve ever had.”

She believed him. She’d never let anyone have this much control over her before, and she knew if she just gave up the last little sliver of it he would make her come undone so thoroughly she wouldn’t remember who either of them had been before this. But she could also feel the tremble in his hands, the tiny unconscious movements of his hips. She was not the only one torturing themselves to win a game neither of them were even sure how it started. She couldn’t find the words to say all that, so she simply told him, as firmly as she could, “You first.”

Without any warning, he pushed his hand into her smallclothes, and in one smooth movement parted her folds and pressed a finger inside her. She moaned and tried to buck her hips up, to increase the pressure, but he still had her firmly pinned. She whimpered his name, no longer above begging.

He started moving, too slow, too soft, too shallow, but at least he was moving. He knew it, too, she could tell by the look on his face. He could turn her into a screaming, shivering mess in seconds if he wanted to, but that wasn’t what he wanted. Not yet. 

Cait squirmed in his grip, far beyond coherency or pride or self-control. She needed him with an almost mindless desire, needed to touch him, to rip his clothes off and make him feel the way he was making her feel. Still, she couldn’t break his hold. All she could do was lay there while he fucked her with his hand, good, so good, but not quite what she needed.

“Yield,” he growled. “Yield and I’ll let you come.”

She wanted to. Oh, Maker, she wanted it more than anything. She bit her lip to stop from saying so.

He coaxed her right to the edge, until her whole body shook with every too-slow curl of his fingers, but when she got too close he pulled her back. Again and again he brought her right to the cusp of completion but wouldn’t let her cross over. She could barely remember what he was waiting for.

“Loghain. Loghain, look at me,” she whispered brokenly when she couldn't take it anymore. When he met her eyes, there was none of the cockiness she expected, just an endless need. “I yield. I yield. Please, Loghain.”

The effect was instantaneous. He slid a second finger into her, working them in and out of her with purpose, brushing against a spot on every stroke that made her see stars. He loosened his hold on her hips enough to allow her to set her own pace, fast and urgent, and when he circled his thumb over her clit, she barreled over the edge before she even saw it approaching.

She came screaming, shaking apart with every wave of pleasure that coursed through her. She clung to him like he was the only solid thing in all of Thedas, the only thing keeping her moored in reality. His name fell from her lips over and over like a prayer.

When next Cait opened her eyes, nothing had changed, but also everything had. She couldn’t remember when he’d finally released her wrists, but her hands were fisted into the fabric of his shirt. Loghain still knelt over her, the hand he wasn’t using to hold himself up clenching restlessly at her hip.

She crossed the space between them to kiss him, sweet and almost chaste compared to the rest of them, and even that small contact was enough to make him groan, and that groan was enough to rekindle the barely settled fire inside her. She fumbled at the laces of his breeches to free his cock. When she wrapped her hand around it, they broke the kiss so he could make a broken, needy sound and she could stare up at him in awe.

“Maker’s blood, Loghain, I can’t believe you’ve been hiding this from me all this time.” She couldn’t see it at the angle they laid at, but she could feel it. She should probably be intimidated by the sheer size of him, but mostly she was delighted. “You could make a qunari envious.”

She stroked him slowly, mapping the shape and curve of him in her mind; if he came to his senses later and never wanted to do this again, and least she wouldn’t be walking away empty handed. So to speak.

He grabbed her wrist to still her movements. He took several deep breaths before he could speak. “Cait, If you keep that up, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”

“How do you want me?” She reluctantly released him, instead busying herself with removing her breeches and smalls as quickly as possible. “You won. It’s your choice.”

Loghain closed his eyes against the question, as if seeing all the possibilities stretched out before him was too much. “On your back. Like we were before,” he ground out. “If that’s alright with you.”

“Just this once,” she whispered. She lay back again, legs and arms open in invitation. “For you.”

He settled over her again, and Cait had to admit that, beyond her insistence that this was an exception to how she preferred to do things, it felt good to be under him like this. To be pressed down by the weight of him, surrounded by him, to be eye to eye like this. She could see the appeal.

She reached between them and guided him to her entrance. She threw her head back in a long moan as he filled her, the sensation nearly overwhelming as her body stretched to accommodate him. She rambled endlessly, her mouth no longer tethered to her brain. "Maker, I wish we were naked. I want to feel your skin against mine. Next time. We should have done this months ago. I shouldn't have assumed I was the only one who wanted this."

"How long?" His voice was like shifting stone, a deep rasp that barely sounded human anymore.

Her answer was more honest than either of them expected. "Since the coronation party. Since Morrigan's ritual. Since the Landsmeet, but not quite the same way." 

He shifted, a quick, shallow thrust and she cried out. She tried to find somewhere she could touch him instead of just his clothes. She kept babbling, faster and breathier and completely beyond her control. "Mmmm, Loghain, you have a beautiful cock. I might've yielded much sooner if I'd known what I was missing out on. I'm going to be feeling this for _days_ , Loghain."

"Do you always talk this much?" Loghain would have probably sounded amused if there was room in his voice for anything but need.

Cait’s hands found his face, caressing him almost tenderly. "You want me to shut up, then fuck me. Take me like we both know you want to."

As if that's what he'd been waiting for, he sprung into motion. He set a slow but relentless pace that left her seeing stars and scrambling to find somewhere to hold on, to brace herself against the onslaught. She didn't actually get any quieter, but the noises drawn from her no longer resembled words.

It didn't take much to bring her over the edge again. Every movement of his hips stoked the fire, building the pressure higher and higher until it burst and her vision went white. She came with a wail that sounded suspiciously like his name. Moments later, he growled her name as his rhythm went erratic, fingers bruising on her hips, and with a final, hard thrust roared with his release.

Loghain dropped to his elbows to keep from crushing her. He pressed his face into her neck and she wound her arms around his shoulders and they stayed there for a while catching their breath.

Cait waited for the awkwardness to settle in as passions cooled, but it seemed to be running late. All that she felt was sore and very, very satisfied.

“It’s a good thing we remembered to lock the door,” she whispered before the silence could get oppressive.

His laughter was warm on her skin. “No one ever uses this room but us. There are advantages to being the most intimidating people in Denerim.”

“Mmm, I’ll say. More of them every day, it seems.” She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to will her body into motion again. It stubbornly refused. “Don’t expect the same result next time.” She laughed breathlessly and added, “Well, the same end result maybe, but it’ll be after your surrender. Not mine.”

“You’re very confident for a woman with my seed dripping down her thighs.” She could feel the curve of a smile where his lips brushed her neck. “But if surrendering gets us somewhere resembling a bed, I’ll consider it.”

She hissed in a breath as he moved suddenly, pulling out and away from her. His eyes raked over her appreciatively where she still lay there, debauched and half naked. She admired him in return, though he was still mostly clothed. Her eyes fell to his lap as he tucked himself away and made himself presentable; even soft, the size of him was impressive.

He caught her staring and smirked. “You act like you’ve never seen a naked man before.”

“I’ve seen my share. None of them were built like you.” Cait sat up to start getting dressed again, starting the endless process of putting all her layers back on, and finally addressed the bronto in the room. “So what is this? Friends with benefits? Stress relief? Or something more?”

“You sure don’t pull any punches, do you, Cait?” Loghain said her name the same way he always said ‘Warden’, like it was a title and a curse at the same time. She would never admit that she liked it, but she did.

“Is there a reason I should? You can take it.”

He didn’t say anything else as she finished setting her clothes to rights, but once she was done putting herself together he stepped close. He trailed his thumb over the bites on her neck. His touch was gentle and his eyes were unreadable once again. “I’m not looking for anything serious, but I’m open to the possibility if that’s where this leads.”

“Good. Me too,” she said, and hoped her relief wasn’t too obvious. She kissed him before she could let herself overthink it, but didn’t linger. “I have no idea how long we’ve been in here, but I’m pretty sure I’m late for a meeting with your daughter.”

“If she asks, don’t bother lying to her. She’s too smart for that.” He looked like he wanted to say something else, but stopped himself. “We should go before she sends someone looking for us.”

\-------

“You’re late.”

“I know. I’m sorry, Anora.” She tried to sound like she meant it.

Anora raised a perfectly curved eyebrow at her, amusement in her eyes but not showing on her face. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen my father? He’s conspicuously absent as well.”

Cait froze for just a second, trying to figure out how to answer that. Her breeches were sticking uncomfortably to her thighs from the evidence of how recently she’d seen him. She chose to sidestep the question entirely and instead replied, “Do you need me to go look for him?”

“That won’t be necessary,” Loghain’s voice carried into the room and he followed a moment later. “Hello, Anora. Warden.”

“Loghain.” She didn’t spare him more than a glance and a nod, too aware of the queen’s keen eyes.

Eyes which were studying her face curiously. “Have you been fighting again?” Anora pointed at her lip, where she’d bitten down too hard. Cait supposed it could look like a split lip if you didn’t know differently.

“Something like that,” she replied vaguely, then because that didn’t feel sufficient, added, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“See that you are,” said Anora firmly. “Did you win, at least?”

“I prefer to think of it as a draw.”


End file.
